


Sculptures and Sunday mornings

by Children_in_a_Fairytale



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Children_in_a_Fairytale/pseuds/Children_in_a_Fairytale
Summary: Grantaire takes a sculpture class, moves into a new apartment, and becomes Feuilly’s no. 1 fan.





	Sculptures and Sunday mornings

Grantaire keeps seeing him everywhere. Covered in sawdust out the back of Bahorel’s carpentry studio, working as a cashier at the art supply shop he visits _far_ too often (he now knows mystery guy works Thursday through Sunday and sometimes covers shifts Tuesday afternoon.) and once, inexplicably at 3am in the cleaning products aisle of the supermarket holding a basket with: a kilo of rice, one (1) green apple and a tube of toothpaste, looking as tired as Grantaire felt.  
Now, most of these encounters Grantaire can understand. He knows that Bahorel sometimes lends out the back part of his studio to people that need the extra space to work, and that the art supply shop often hires students but, he cannot for the life of him possibly imagine why a human being would be at the supermarket at this time of the night with such a strange collection of items in their basket. He can’t stop staring. Grantaire _knows_ that it makes him look like a creeper but there’s something about the combination of a single apple and rice that has captured his attention, is that going to be dinner? Did he realise that he was out of rice at 3am? Grantaire has no idea. (the staring absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that the guy’s sleeves are just slightly rolled up, revealing strong forearms or the fact that under the bags his eyes are long lashed and a gorgeous deep brown).  
After the semester ends Grantaire sees mystery guy less, his trips to the art supply shop become less frequent and he _finally_ catches up on some sleep, but the memory of the 3am encounter stays with him, settling in the back of his mind like a half-forgotten dream.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  


The new semester arrives and brings with it new classes, including a sculpture elective that Grantaire has been looking forward to as a change of pace from his sketching and painting classes. As Grantaire is settling into his seat on the first day of class, however, he thinks he might still be dreaming when he looks up to see the mystery guy pulling a sketchbook out of his bag, sitting in the seat next to Grantaire’s.  
_Oh no_.  
His heart skips a beat, because the mystery guy is even cuter up close. The guy pushes square framed glasses up his nose and runs a hand through his auburn hair then, looking up, spots Grantaire staring at him.  
“Oh, hello. I’m Feuilly” mystery guy introduces himself, extending a hand and seemingly not having noticed that Grantaire looks a little bit like he’s been slapped in the face.  
“Uhhhhhhh” _Oh yes,_ very _eloquent Grantaire._  
Mystery guy, Feuilly, looks slightly concerned. _Geez R, get it together_ “Hi, I’m Grantaire” he says grasping his hand maybe a little _too_ eagerly. Feuilly smiles at him again as the teacher calls the class to order and Grantaire has a feeling that he’s going to really enjoy this class.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  
It turns out that the sculpture class was not the refreshing change of pace that Grantaire had anticipated. For whatever reason, he just didn’t seem to _get_ sculpture. A few weeks in and nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was the idea of trying to translate his ideas into 3D space, maybe it was the fact that he spent a frankly astonishing amount of time staring at Feuilly. Either way, sculpture was not going well.  
Feuilly on the other hand seemed to be doing fine, his sculptures actually looked like people when they were meant to, and he never seemed to be crying in the library while trying to write an analysis of a pile of chairs wrapped in barbed wire (This happened to Grantaire far too often, how was he meant to analyse _chairs_ , they’re just furniture!). Grantaire didn’t resent him too much though, because Feuilly was as kind as he was brilliant and was always willing to lend a hand with Grantaire’s analysis which led to them sitting together for hours in the library and then eventually in one of their apartments (Grantaire prefers to study at Feuilly’s, away from the knowing looks of his roommate) debating the best way to make ‘it’s a hot mess’ sound intelligent and artsy.  
In class, Feuilly is generally quiet but when he is around his friends (and this apparently included Grantaire now) he became more animated and open. This had the unfortunate side effect of turning Grantaire’s intense attraction to his face and his hands (oh god his _hands_ ) into something much more substantial and harder to shake. Maybe it was the way he lit up when he spoke about his foster siblings, maybe it was the way he punched an asshole who stole Joly’s cane, or maybe the way Grantaire could always tell when he was concentrating hard because he stuck his tongue out between his teeth or any one of a hundred other things. In any case, Grantaire was well and truly fucked.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  
Grantaire was rudely shaken from his daydreaming about Feuilly (they were working with clay this week and all R wanted to do was slip in behind Feuilly and re-enact the scene from _Ghost_ ) when he reached for his bus pass, only to find it wasn’t there. His stomach dropped, and he felt his chest tighten, he’d _just_ put more money on it and he _really_ couldn’t afford to buy another one this week. Just as he can feel his breath start to come faster, he hears a voice.  
“Excuse me?” Grantaire looks up to see a short, Pakistani man with a riot of brown curls and bright green eyes. “Are you ok?”  
Grantaire takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair “Yeah, I uh, I just lost my bus pass and I can’t really afford-“ “Oh!”, the man interrupts him with a smile, “You can have one of mine, I always carry a few spares just in case.” he quickly rummaged in his wallet and handed over a bus pass “It should have about $10 on it so I hope that’s enough. I’m Courfeyrac by the way” he says, beaming up at Grantaire, giving him the sudden impression of a Golden Retriever in human form.  
“Oh shit that’s my bus, I have to go. It was great to meet you!” and with a wave and a slight shower of glitter, Courfeyrac was gone.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  
“That’s enough for today I think” Feuilly says, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his back. “Do you want to go for coffee?” he asks and Grantaire nearly trips over himself to say yes, far too eager to spend more time with the other man. He realises his mistake when he opened his wallet after ordering only to remember that he’d spent his last notes on groceries the night before and his account was empty after paying rent at the start of the week. He blushes as he counts out his silver coins, just barely making the cost of one small coffee, and tips the pile into the cashier’s hands, mumbling an apology as he moves to the side to wait for his drink.  
“Hey, this place does really good cakes. Do you want to split a brownie?” Feuilly asks, gesturing to the display case. Grantaire reluctantly declines, stubbornly ignoring his stomach’s loud protests. Feuilly gives him a long look then smiles “Suit yourself, but I’m going to get one. Brownies are self-care.” Grantaire returns the smile as Feuilly walks towards the counter to order.  
The barista calls his name and Grantaire picks up his depressingly small coffee and finds and empty table, Feuilly joining him holding a larger coffee and a plate with a delicious looking slice of brownie on it. They sit, their legs close together, and talk. About all sorts of things, plans for the weekend, the last time Grantaire had visited the museum and they laugh and somehow end up sharing the brownie. “you have to have some R” Feuilly cries, waving the fork, “it’s self-care!” So they finish the brownie together, exchanging bites and Grantaire walks home smiling, feeling warm despite the weather.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  
In June the rent goes up. It is safe to say that Grantaire starts to panic. This panic only intensifies when his roommate sits him down and regretfully explains that they can’t afford the new rent and have to move out. Grantaire smiles and wishes them luck, but inside he is dying, now he must cover double the increased rent or lose his apartment.  
He is in the library, holed up in a booth towards the back, desperately trying to make his savings and his meagre income stretch in a way that is just not possible. He rubs wearily at his eyes, feeling tears start to form as he goes over the sums yet again. That’s how they find him, Courfeyrac sliding into the booth next to him and Feuilly across the table.  
“Grantaire!” Courfeyrac exclaims, startling a few first years nearby and pulling R into a hug. “Are you ok? We have to stop meeting like this” Grantaire smiles a little and runs his hand through his hair.  
“Uh, yeah I’m fine, I just” he pauses trying to figure out how to phrase his problem. “I’m going to lose my apartment.” His voice cracks on the last word and he looks down, swallowing around the lump in his throat “The rent went up and my roommate couldn’t afford it and moved out and I probably couldn’t have afforded it anyway but now I need to pay double and I don’t have anywhere _near_ enough and-“ Grantaire cuts himself off, properly crying now. “I’m gonna be homeless” he says quietly, staring at his hands which are clenched, white knuckled on the table.  
“Hey” Feuilly says gently, reaching across the table to touch Grantaire’s arm “it’ll be ok, we’ll figure something out.”  
“Yeah, I got you fam” says Courfeyrac, pointing finger guns at R. “You can come and stay with me” he continues with a smile.  
“No Courf” sighs Feuilly “Marius is already sleeping on your couch and I doubt Combeferre would appreciate a fourth person sleeping in your 1 bed apartment. But” he says, turning to smile gently at Grantaire “you won’t be homeless R, you can come and live with me. I’ve got a spare room, so you won’t even have to sleep on the couch.” He blushes gently and looks at the table “only if you want to of course.”  
Grantaire is stunned. All the emotion of the past few days catching up at once and he ends up sobbing with his head on the table, both Feuilly and Courfeyrac stroking his back and gently shushing him.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

And so Grantaire moves into Feuilly’s spare room. It takes depressingly little time to move all his things into Feuilly’s much nicer apartment and into what is now his room. He sits down on his new bed, his old mattress left behind, and looks around his room, sighing. It starts to sink in that he is indefinitely living with the man he has the world’s biggest crush on. _This is going to be interesting._  
Living with Feuilly is nice, though Grantaire will admit that it is different to what he had expected. From their previous interactions, R had come to the conclusion that Feuilly was the sort of person who really had his life together, ate well, had a regular sleeping schedule and was a Real Adult tm rather than a sad faker like Grantaire. He couldn’t have been more wrong. For the first week or so Feuilly was the perfect host but as they both adjusted to living together, little by little he began to act much less put together.  
It was not uncommon for Grantaire to stagger down the hall to the bathroom in the early hours, only to see Feuilly’s light still on, the other man hunched over his desk typing away doggedly at his laptop, surrounded by dirty coffee mugs. On one memorable occasion Grantaire found Feuilly slumped over at his desk asleep, still with his glasses on and drooling slightly. R had carefully removed Feuilly’s glasses and placed a blanket over his shoulders, gently brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead and resisting the urge to kiss his forehead before turning off the light.  
Much to Grantaire’s chagrin, Feuilly won’t accept any contribution to the rent so instead, R takes it upon himself to cook at least two meals a day. This is partially so he can feel he is contributing something, but he also genuinely enjoys cooking, and as an added bonus it means that he can make sure Feuilly is eating enough as R has discovered that he has a habit of forgetting to feed himself.  
Most mornings Grantaire makes toast or porridge, something quick and simple to go with coffee before he and Feuilly have to leave for class but on Saturday mornings, when the sun shines into the kitchen, he goes all out. He is standing in the kitchen, in his boxers ( a gift from Joly, covered in large ducks) and a large fluffy jumper singing along to the bad pop song on the radio and dancing while he flips crepes. He’s not really paying attention to his surroundings until he hears a quiet “Fuck” and turns around to see Feuilly, one hand braced against the wall looking pained.  
“You ok man?” Grantaire asks and Feuilly flushes. “Uhhhh yeah, I just stubbed my toe” he says, avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “Oooo” Grantaire hisses sympathetically, turning back to the crepes in the pan “that’s never fun. Hey, could you grab the cream from the fridge? I’ve already chopped the strawberries.”  
“Sure” replies Feuilly, something soft and fond in his voice. If R hadn’t been facing away, he would have seen Feuilly’s expression, it was the one he wore when looking at the most beautiful art.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  
Grantaire’s favourite part of living with Feuilly was their late-night study sessions, when they would both emerge from their rooms carrying piles of books and settle in the lounge room working and talking quietly until the early hours of the morning. Generally, after about 2am, all productivity goes out the window and the session devolves into the pair of them clutching large mugs of tea and talking about anything and everything. Feuilly has pulled the sleeves of his oversized, fluffy jumper down over his hands and is staring pensively into the depths of his tea.  
“I moved around a lot as a kid” he is saying “I had four foster homes by the time I was 11, that was when I moved in with Maman.” He smiles up at R. “She’s great, you’d love her. There were five of us living there but she was never too busy to help. She was actually the first person I came out to and I have never felt so loved or accepted as I did then.” He paused and took a mouthful of tea, “How about your family? Are they cool with you being bi?”  
“Well,” Grantaire started, “they’re not _not_ cool with it. I think my dad in particular is a bit confused by the whole thing and my mum keeps sending me trans flag pride emojis because she gets the flags confused but they love me and that’s what’s really important.”  
“Not to pry” Feuilly says hesitantly “but why didn’t you ask them for help with your apartment?”  
“Nah, it’s fine.” he replies scratching his chin “We never had a heap of money and they’ve still got my younger sisters to look after, so I didn’t ask. I knew they wouldn’t be able to help, and I didn’t want to stress them out.”  
When he looks up again, Feuilly has the strangest look on his face “You know,” he says, “you are the most selfless person I know.” Grantaire looks away self-consciously but Feuilly continues, “No, I mean it R. I am so lucky to have you in my life.” The air feels charged, and R can’t seem to look away from Feuilly.  
Grantaire blushes “Feuilly, that’s gay” Feuilly laughs, and the moment passes.  
“Sorry, I forgot to say ‘No Homo” he laughs softly. He stretches and stands up off the couch, offering a hand to pull R up. “Come on, I need food. I’ll even make you a hot chocolate” he waggles his fingers temptingly.  
“Ah you’ve convinced me!” cries R, letting himself be pulled off the couch and into the kitchen. They end up standing side by side, making hot chocolate and nachos, bumping shoulders and laughing until they cry.  
R has never been more content in his life.  


\----------------------------------------------------------

  
Sometimes it gets bad. Sometimes Feuilly works 12 hour shifts three days in a row, leaving him with barely enough energy to eat, let alone do his coursework. Sometimes Grantaire’s meds need adjusting and he feels nauseous and irritable for weeks before they find the right dose. But, for the most part, they are happy. Time passes, and they settle even more into a routine, R cooks so Feuilly cleans up, Feuilly buys groceries and Grantaire does the laundry, once a fortnight, they watch a movie together or treat themselves to a fancy dinner. Courfeyrac and Joly joke that they’re like an old married couple, making them both blush, though Feuilly is smiling quietly when Grantaire looks up at him from under his eyelashes. All in all, it’s pretty perfect.  
No matter what else happens during the week, Sunday mornings are theirs. Grantaire makes breakfast while Feuilly makes coffee and they sit at the table together and bicker over the crossword, doing as many words correctly as they can before giving up and finding the most obscure words that match the clues. They are sitting side by side in the soft morning sunlight, the crossword and a pen on the table in front of them. Grantaire looks down to where their arms lie close together and carefully interlaces their fingers.  
Feuilly presses his hand with a smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to the ever wonderful burntblackfeathers for holding my hand and encouraging me through my first ever fic.  
> I hope you enjoyed this entry for Les Mis rare pairs week 2018  
> I'm on tumblr at ahartfulloflove  
> If you liked it please leave a comment or kudos


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